


Method to This Madness

by dizzzylu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Incest, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More threesome sex in an AU of an AU. Because there can never be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method to This Madness

Castiel hears noises as he steps out of the shower, voices that are low and quiet, coming from the bedroom. He thinks Sam and Dean have woken up, but it's still dark in the room, moonlight slanting through the window striping the floor silver and black.

Castiel towels off and takes a mental inventory of the kitchen, checking to make sure they have everything they need for pancakes, Dean's favorite post-sex meal. The voices fade in and out, rolling like the tide over the beach. There's the rustle of cloth, the smack of skin on skin, a startled gasp, then a moan. Castiel knows that moan. Castiel has _caused_ that moan. It's the sound Dean makes when Castiel sucks on his plush lower lip and rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, slicking the pad of it with precome. Castiel has to close his eyes against the dizziness when all his blood rushes south.

He takes a step to the side to see the whole bed through the doorway. Dean is awake and sitting on the edge, legs open just wide enough for Sam to fit between them. And he does, looming over Dean in the darkness, his hair falling forward to hide their faces from Castiel. He can tell, though, that they're kissing. Besides the subtle hitching of Sam's hips against Dean's stomach, he can hear the wet sounds they make. Castiel notes, too, how perfectly Dean's head fits in the cradle of Sam's palm, fully supported despite the awkward angle.

Dean's hands rest, light, on Sam's thighs, just under the curve of his ass. Castiel can see the shadow of Dean's fingers brushing carefully at the cleft, stroking in time with Sam's hips. Sam shivers. So does Castiel.

"Turn around," Dean murmurs from behind the curtain of Sam's ridiculous hair. Sam does and Castiel watches Dean grab Sam by the waist and haul him into his lap. Automatically, Sam's legs hook over Dean's knees and Dean spreads them wider, smoothing broad hands over straining thighs. The splay of his legs draws Castiel's attention to Sam's cock, already glistening at the tip with precome, skin pale in the moonlight. Sam's hands hover, uncertain, in the air, fingers twitching, and Dean makes up Sam's mind for him; wraps thick fingers around Sam's knobby wrists and places Sam's palms on his own knees.

Dean's hoarse "Keep them there" is not a request.

Dean starts sucking kisses into Sam's shoulders and neck, palms flat on Sam's chest and rubbing tight circles over the nipples. His hips are rocking, a subtle movement made more dramatic by the way the shadows play across their skin. Castiel can imagine Dean's cock nestled tight against Sam's ass, trailing slick and sticking against young, flawless skin. Castiel strokes his own cock at the thought, smearing precome along the length to ease the way.

Sam's head drops back against Dean's shoulder, exposing the perfect column of his neck. Dean takes advantage and leans in to worry a bruise there. Castiel can't quite see Dean's work from doorway, not with the shadows and Sam in the way, but he can tell by Sam's breathless whimpers, the way his back arches away from Dean, even though it brings his neck closer.

Dean switches to the other side, drags his teeth against the shell of Sam's ear, and his hand disappears between their bodies, the other resting light on Sam's waist to help keep him steady. "God, Sammy," his whispers, voice thick. "Feel so good."

Sam hooks his arm around Dean's neck, breathless, broken little _ah ah ahs_ spilling from his slack mouth. Castiel can imagine what Dean's doing, stroking teasing circles around Sam's hole, pressing in a little then pulling out again, the same way he likes to tease Castiel. He's probably being extra gentle, too. Mindful of Sam's soreness.

Sam sobs Dean's name, nose tucked under Dean's chin as he tries to rock harder, get Dean's finger to slip inside and ease the coiling ache at the base of his spine. Dean flattens his hand low over Sam's stomach and Sam's hips slow. "Dean," Sam says again. "I need-- you gotta-- Dean!" This last breaks into a high keen and he arches as far as Dean's grip will allow, feet hooking around Dean's legs to hold himself steady against the burn. The fingers in Dean's hair flex and release. Castiel imagines he can hear the scrape of Sam's nails against the scalp.

Dean chains a line of kisses along Sam's shoulder, mouth open and shining, even in the shadows. When he gets to the ball of the joint, he finally looks up and grins. Bites a kiss into the skin there, eyes focused on Castiel.

"It's ok, baby," Dean says, voice dark with promise. "We'll make it good. We got you." And Sam sobs again, hips stuttering.

Castiel takes it for the invitation it is, leaving the towel in the bathroom and closing the space between them without saying a word. Fits himself in between their entwined legs and pushes a clump of sweat-damp hair out of Sam's eyes.

"Cas," Sam groans, eyes slitted and glittering and dark. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and Castiel leans down before it's gone, flicks lightly at them with his own then slants his mouth over Sam's to kiss him deep and dirty. Palms the back of Sam's head to keep it steady through the rolling of his hips.

Dimly, Castiel feels Dean nosing at his jaw, dragging his teeth over the stubble. With Sam's breath still warm on his lips, his tongue still tingling from Sam's, he turns and kisses Dean, wants to meld the taste of them all into one perfect thing.

Sam's mouth is hot on Castiel's shoulder, trailing up to the curve of his neck where he bites at the pulse, soothes over it with his tongue. His hand falls to Castiel's waist, too. Palm flat and skimming over sticky-damp skin, stopping at the small of Castiel's back. He pulls so that Castiel is flush against him, cock pinned and leaking between them.

A fist bumps against the underside, and Castiel pulls away from Dean to look down, brushes light fingertips over the head of Sam's cock. Dean's hand is there, at the base, a tight fist holding off Sam's orgasm. Castiel slots his fingers in between Dean's and lowers himself to his knees; circles Sam's slit with the tip of his tongue and smiles at Sam's broken cry.

"Cas," Sam begs, clutching at Dean's wrist with both hands. "Wait. Dean I-- _ah_ Dean!" Castiel doesn't let go, but leans over to press soothing kisses into Sam's trembling thighs.

"What do you want, Sammy," Dean asks, voice muffled by Sam's skin. "Tell me what you need."

Sam doesn't know, can barely form words that aren't fractured gasps and moans. His cock throbs hot in their hands, precome leaking from the slit. Castiel laps at it, dragging over both his and Dean's fingers with his tongue.

"I need. You. Fuck. _Please_ , Dean." The words come out in gasps, the sound of it making Castiel's chest ache, the gut-deep need Sam has for the two of them together turning Castiel breathless, and Castiel looks up. Sam's sweat-sheened skin glows in the moonlight, pale and flawless. His eyes are closed, too, lashes fluttering and dark against his cheeks. His slack mouth bumps against Dean's, at a loss for words and air and thought.

"Ok Sam, it's ok." Dean lets go of Sam's cock and his other hand appears from in between them, smearing lube and come over Sam's hips. With his eyes on Castiel, Dean lifts Sam up, and Castiel reaches underneath to grasp Dean's cock, strokes it once, twice, then keeps it steady for Sam to sink down on. Dean helps keep it slow, letting Sam drop little by little until he's flush in Dean's lap, squirming slightly to adjust.

Castiel mouths along Sam's length, hand tight around the base as he licks a long, sordid strip along the vein. Dean's hands on Sam's thighs keep him still, but Castiel can see through the fan of his lashes the heaving of Sam's chest, his head tipped down and eyes wide, watching Castiel rub his lips against the head then take Sam in. Underneath the wet sucking sounds he makes as he bobs up and down, Castiel hears Sam's shaky "holy shit," and Dean's dirty chuckle.

Sam fits differently in Castiel's mouth, the head of his cock bumping against his throat sooner than Dean. Castiel does it again and again, proud of the wrecked sounds spilling from Sam's mouth, the throb of him against Castiel's tongue.

"Pull his hair, Sam," Dean says, guiding Sam's hands to Castiel's head. "He likes that, don't you, Cas?"

Castiel's gaze darts up to meet Dean's. Dean would be smirking, Castiel's sure, if his mouth wasn't occupied with the soft skin under Sam's ear. "Go on Sammy," Dean says again. "Pull it." It almost sounds like a dare.

Sam moans, long and low, and then his fingers tighten and pull. Castiel groans back, eyes slipping shut against the shivers cascading down his spine to settle in his groin. Sam's cock jerks at the vibrations, and a burst of precome smears sticky over the roof of Castiel's mouth, the back of his tongue.

Finally, Dean starts moving, rocking up into Sam with slow, languid rolls of his hips. One hand is flat on the bed to steady him, the other, as Castiel watches, slides over Sam's stomach to the side. Skims up under his arm, fingers bumping along the ribs, to his back and over his shoulder blade. It stop when it curls over the shoulder, fingertips pressing against Sam's collar bone, thumb stroking Sam's neck.

Castiel pulls up and off, swirling his tongue around the crown as he goes, and watches the play of shadows across Sam's face. The tiny flicker between Sam's brows, his pale pink lips and the abject filth tumbling from them. Sam doesn't recognize his own strength when he pulls at Castiel's hair, but the burn feels good, and Sam won't notice if tears spike Castiel's lashes.

Dean is watching the two of them, seems most focused on Castiel's hand around Sam's cock, and the way Sam can't look away from it. His hand slides over to Sam's neck, grasping him close to the chin, and tugs. "Head up, Sam," his says, fingers pulsing tight against Sam's neck once. "Watching makes it harder to hold on." He leans back, too, pulling Sam with him about halfway. The move lengthens Sam's neck and Castiel's cock throbs at the breathless gasps Sam makes around the constriction.

Sam presses his fists against Castiel's head and tries to guide it back to his cock. But Dean's moving faster now and the high, stuttered _Deans_ Sam keeps chanting makes Castiel think Dean's found the perfect angle.

He's watching Castiel from over Sam's shoulder, and his hand finds Castiel's free one on Sam's leg, laces their fingers together. His mouth is next to Sam's ear, too, and is whispering filthy words to him. "God, Sammy, _fuck_. Feel so good."

Sam turns his face into Dean's cheek, neck still snug in Dean's hand, and he sobs. "Dean, I have to. _Please_. I can't--" His hands spasm in Castiel's hair, nails sharp against Castiel's scalp. "Please, Cas."

This last is a whisper, barely audible over the slap of skin against skin, and Castiel can't deny him. Catches Dean's eye to make sure, then starts stroking Sam's cock, finding the same rhythm Dean's set with his hips, and keeps his grip firm.

He can't watch Sam's face, not without needing to touch himself, and Dean won't let Castiel's hand go. No matter how hard he tries to pull away, this is -- has been -- Dean's show. Dean's fingers are tangled tight with his, and Castiel's cock is just going to have to wait.

"Cas," Dean says, low and tight, and Castiel knows that look. The bite of Dean's teeth in his lip, the ragged, sandpapery panting. Dean's going to come and he wants Sam with him.

Sam's seconds away, too, his cries gravel rough, ripping from deep from his throat. Castiel sinks down on his cock, takes him all the way in and swallows, and within seconds, Sam is pulsing, sticky and salt-bitter over Castiel's tongue, down his throat. Dean, Castiel can hear, is coming too, his grip grinding the fine bones of Castiel's fingers together. He sucks Sam through it, gentling the suction when he hears Sam's whimper.

Then, before he can get his foot under him to stand up, there is a third hand pushing through his hair, grabbing him at the nape of his neck and pulling. It's Dean, eyes wide and black and guiding Castiel first to his mouth for a kiss, then to Sam's.

"Fuck, Sam. _Cas_ ," Dean says, voice torn and breath gusting hot against Castiel's cheek "Taste so good, don't you, baby."

Sam moans, sucking on Castiel's tongue. His hand slides down Castiel's neck, skirting along his side, and cups his ass. Dean follows close behind and they both tug. Castiel, bent over and tongue-fucking Sam's mouth, with nowhere to put his hands to steady himself, tips forward easily. He manages to avoid taking them down with him, and then Sam is trying to ease himself off Dean's softening cock, wincing as he does. Dean helps with hands on Sam's hips, keeps them there as Sam tries to steady himself on weak legs.

Castiel wants to sit up, wants to draw Sam to him, but Dean's palm is flat on his chest and pushing him down. He thumbs at a nipple and says, "Get up here, Sam." And Sam _does_. Without hesitation.

Together, they tug and shove and get Castiel laid out on the bed, stroking flat hands over his thighs, pelvis, hips. Sam's hand instinctively reaches for Castiel's cock and thumbs over the head. Castiel's hips thrust into the touch before Dean's hands on his hips can stop him.

"Slower, Sam. Cas likes to wait." And yes, Castiel does, but he's been waiting so long already; the taste of Sam on his tongue, Dean's scent in his nose, cock throbbing and unable to touch himself. He's _been_ waiting and it's Sam's hand around his cock, different and new and so goddamn warm. He tries to thrust into it again, but Dean's prepared this time, fingers digging into Castiel's hips.

Dean leans up then, pinning Castiel with his hips on one side, hand on the other, and kisses him, mouth open dirty-wide, taking in Castiel's hitched groans that sound foreign even to himself. Licks along Castiel's teeth, over the roof of his mouth, as if he's chasing down any bit of Sam he can get.

Castiel wants both to stay like this for hours and come at the same time. His cock aches and Sam's slow, loose grasp doesn't provide nearly enough friction, but his tongue and teeth are sharp and clever on the spur of Castiel's hip. Dean also fuels the fire in Castiel's belly; fingers nimble and circling Castiel's nipple, his mouth wet and wicked against Castiel's pulse, the line of his collar bone.

"Dean," Castiel whimpers, teeth catching on Dean's plush lower lip. "I can't--" He twists in their hands, hips toward Sam, chest toward Dean. The head of his cock bumps against Sam's cheek, and he hears a soft, "Oh."

"Go ahead, Sammy," Dean says, scruff scratching against the skin of Castiel's shoulder. "Suck him."

And Sam does, mouth soft and wet and hot around Castiel, eagerness making Sam take him in all at once. He chokes a little, throat closing around the head, and Castiel is thankful for Dean's weight on his hips, isn't sure he could stop himself from jerking into that tightness again, not even to spare Sam.

"Easy, Sam. Easy," Dean murmurs into the hollow of Castiel's neck, lips damp and catching against Castiel's skin. "Start with the head, get it good and wet. Watch."

And Dean slides down, makes obscene wet sounds as he takes the tip of Castiel in, over and over again. He pulls off and says, "And then tongue at the slit. God, Sam. He _loves_ that." Again, he demonstrates, hand tight around Sam's hand and Castiel's cock and Castiel can't decide if he wants to be closer or farther away. Hips hitching and body vibrating with need and love and denial and his hands fist in the blankets, in Sam's hair, wherever he can reach.

Dean pulls off with a wet pop and sits back on his heels, letting Sam take his turn. He goes slower this time, almost agonizingly slow. It helps Castiel hold off. Sam doesn't yet know the ways to make Castiel fall apart as quick and thoroughly as possible. Castiel's willing to teach him, though. Him and Dean both, warm and encouraging with Sam between them, in them, around them.

Castiel is grunting from the effort of trying to keep his hips still and Sam is starting to pick up Castiel's tells, like when he rubs at the knot of nerves just under the head with the flat of his tongue. Letting his spit trickle down the length and smearing it over Castiel's balls, under that to his perineum, under _that_ to the tight pucker of his hole, fingers light and searching.

Castiel feels lit up from the inside, skin sparking everywhere Sam touches him. His head tips back and his eyes slip closed. Dean growls, teeth punishing Castiel's jaw, and shoves a pillow under his head, propping him up. "Watch, Cas." It isn't a request, and his eyes open, blurry and wide.

Sam's a shadow at first, then the details emerge. Sam's long legs, splayed wide behind him. The smooth line of his spine, white in the moonlight. His hair black and thick, falling in his face in sweat-damp clumps. He's watching Castiel through the shadow of his lashes, one hand still tucked under Castiel, the other gripping tight around the base of his cock. He pulls off, licks his lips, says, "Taste so fuckin' good, Cas," and mouths at Castiel's balls before taking him back in again.

Castiel shivers violently, hands desperate and clutching at Sam's ass and Dean's thigh. Dean's palm skates up Castiel's torso and he thumbs at Castiel's mouth, the other cups Sam's face. "Just hold on, Cas. Let Sam -- Jesus. _Sam_." His thumb presses against Sam's cheek. Castiel can feel the pressure of it against the head of his cock as he bumps at the side of Sam's mouth. "Slow down, baby. Make him beg for it." Castiel bites down on his thumb, smiling around it at Dean's hiss.

Castiel would beg for it if Dean's thumb wasn't in the way, thick and rough against Castiel's tongue. He tries anyway, but the words are slurred and it doesn't even matter because Dean's got his hand over Sam's again, showing him how to stroke Castiel; how fast and where to squeeze and how Castiel bucks when he presses the pad of his thumb into the slit.

The difference between their touches is intoxicating, makes Castiel's head spin. Or it could be the lack of blood to the brain. His body is screaming for release and he thinks he might be too, but the rush of blood is too loud in his ears and, besides that, both Dean and Sam are telling him how amazing he feels and how hot he is and then Sam's lips brush against the the head and Castiel's hips lift from the bed, stars exploding in his vision. His eyes slip shut and he hopes it's the blanket held tight in his fists because he knows Dean likes to be marked but Sam doesn't know yet, and Castiel doesn't want to cause that kind of damage so soon.

He comes down slow, registering the room in bits and pieces. The white moonlight, Dean's smiling face hovering above his, Sam clutching at his hips and cleaning him off with gentle sucking and a soft tongue. Castiel's hand finds the back of Dean's head and pulls him down, kissing him, soft and quiet, until he can't breathe.

Dean pulls away, only to be replaced by Sam, his hand wide and hot against Castiel's face. He's more confident now than when they started the night, using bold thrusts of his tongue to search the ridges and valleys of Castiel's mouth. The weight of him settles something in Castiel's body, makes his limbs feel heavy. His eyes slip shut, too, letting Sam move him where he wants him, until one leg is slung over Castiel's thighs and Dean is snug against Castiel's back, sucking kisses into Sam's jaw until he pulls away to claim Dean's mouth, too.

Eventually they separate, settling against Castiel's body like they've done it a hundred times before. With the two of them putting off heat like a furnace, it isn't hard for Castiel to slip back to sleep, warm and sated and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> So, cautionzombies wrote this amazing D/C fic, [300 Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/285374) (go read it if you're a D/C fan and haven't yet seen it. It's so wonderful. I can wait ;)), which apparently gave obstinatrix [S/D/C ideas](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/102814.html) (naturally), which then gave ME ideas. Luckily, they are both amazingly kind friends and let me play in their sandbox, so I need to thank them quite sincerely (especially obstinatrix, since she played beta for me, as well). I love you both so _so_ much. And let me not forget perfumaniac. Friend, beta, dirty, _dirty enabler_. Love you, bb.


End file.
